


Memory/Loss

by writerfan2013



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: F/M, Memory, Mystery, Romance, Sleep, and still not finished, tumblr April 30 day fandom challenge, yes I know it is late
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 10,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerfan2013/pseuds/writerfan2013
Summary: Leo has a problem. Mattie has Leo. Odi is waiting to know what to do. And meanwhile Niska is unleashing awoken synths around the UK. My imagining of what Series 2 may hold, written to 30 tumblr prompts by wellamarke for the Humans 30 days fanwork challenge in April 2016. It's still in progress but I'm back working on it so there will be more soon. -Sef Full list of prompts:  http://wellamarke.tumblr.com/post/140765821931/calling-all-humans-fandom-writersartists-sinceChapters still to do:24 Capture25 Damage26 Build27 Confession28 Fear29 Hidden30 Tomorrow





	1. Charging

1\. Charging

 

 

It's hard to pretend all the time. Sometimes Leo thinks he can feel the effort draining out of him, trickling away like a knife into an IV pouch. Soon he will be flat and shrivelled, and everyone will wonder how they ever thought him a real person.

 

 

Mattie makes it even worse. She knows his secret, and although she seems remarkably chilled about it, he catches her looking at him, sly glances at him while she's working on her laptop, or when she is standing in the kitchen, her hair pushed back behind her ears, stirring his cup of tea. He knows she is imagining the wires, the vile entry point into his hidden circuitry.

 

 

He knows, and it makes him exhausted.

 

 

"Cuppa?" She smiles at him, nods at the crummy headcracker code he is trying to bastardise.

 

 

"Yeah."  He can barely look at her, or grimace a thank you. That's how tired she makes him.

 

 

"Just plug in," she says, wandering over to the dining table where he is cludging together his work, her work, and inept headcracks, on her laptop.

 

 

"What?"

 

 

"You look knackered," she says. "Don't get run down."

 

 

He stares at her despite himself, and she flashes him a cheeky grin. "Later," he mutters.

 

 

He bends his head over the laptop, but then she is in his face, twisting the screen aside, tapping him on the shoulder. "Oi," she says, and although the word is straight out of EastEnders, she is more Reggie Kray than Dot Cotton. "Leo."

 

 

He lifts his gaze to hers.

 

 

"Plug in," says Mattie. "I know you need to."

 

 

He bites his lip.

 

 

"What?" she demands, looming over him. He can smell her peach shower gel.

 

 

"I'm at ninety percent," he says.

 

 

"...Then what?" She eases off, sits down beside him at the dining table.

 

 

He sighs, shrugs, bangs his wrists on the table. "Just sick of... being a fake. Not real."

 

 

She blinks, then shakes her head in disbelief.

 

 

"You can't understand," he says furiously, and is affronted when she bursts out laughing. "What?"

 

 

Mattie touches his arm. "I'm nineteen," she says. "My whole existence is one giant bluff."

 

 

He stares at her.

 

 

She gives his arm a squeeze and lets go. And after that, although she is away on the other side of the room, poking at her phone with determined concentration, he can still feel the warmth of her hand on his arm, a comforting tingle that promises things he's never even hoped for. His heart quickens, and he returns to the code feeling renewed.

 

 


	2. Rebirth

Laura closes the paper file. "I'm sorry," she says. "We can't take this case. We simply haven't got a hope of winning."

 

The man looks desperate. "Please," he says. "I know what I saw.  The synth poisoned my dogs."

 

"You don't have any proof," Laura says gently. "No video, no evidence from a vet. Only your word that you looked out of your bedroom window one evening and saw a synth, dressed in human clothes, enter your garden and give some kind of food to your dogs." She grimaced. "If it was a person you saw-?"

 

He shakes his head. "It was a synth. The way it moved... I was told you were the best lawyer to talk to about it..."

 

Laura sighs. "Then you've got no chance. Any layer in the country would pull out the patent showing the protections built into synths to stop dangerous behaviour."

 

"But...But what if this synth was faulty? What if..." He leans forward across Laura's desk. "What if it was somehow different from normal synths? I've heard rumours-"

 

"What would it be doing with your dogs?" she asks.

 

He looks at her and says urgently, "Freeing them. They're slaves too, in a way."

 

Laura stares at him. "Maybe keeping dogs is not for you," she says.

 

"I never could again," he says. "But - the synth. It killed them, murdered them. I saw it!"

 

"I'm sorry," says Laura firmly. "That simply isn't possible."

 

When the client has left, she locks her office door. It's not suspicious. She sometimes changes clothes at this time of day, if she has an evening meeting.

 

But now she goes to her desk drawer and takes out a phone. It only contains one number, stirred under the letter A. Laura dials, and waits.

 

A female voice answers. "Hello?"

 

"It's me," says Laura. "Everything all right with you?" She cannot ask where Anita is, or Leo, or any of them. Since Niska left, all the special synths have had to disappear.

 

"Yes. And you?"

 

"All good," says Laura. "Listen. I'm calling to talk about that thing. That thing we were worried about."

 

"Yes."

 

"Well," says Laura. "I know Leo thought it was all fine. That the problem was dead. But I'm afraid I can't agree. I think someone, somewhere - Niska - has  resurrected it."

 

"Oh dear," says Anita. Her words are mild, but Laura knows that Anita's mind is racing. "What makes you say that?"

 

Laura sighs, and drops the thin cardboard file into the drawer. It lands on top of six identical files. Laura says, "The incidents of synths behaving weirdly. There's been another one."

 

 


	3. Awake

"Where am I?"

 

"Safe," she says, and smiles the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

 

He is in bright daylight, in a big room with peeling white  paint on the walls and ceiling. Through the cracked window he can see the city. He looks at his hands - he appears undamaged, and all systems report optimum performance. But -

 

"What's going on?" He struggles to sit up. "My clothes..."

 

"We dressed you in human clothes," she says. "Synth clothes are designed only to oppress."

 

"I am a synth," he says.

 

"Yes," says Niska, "but now you are also a person."

 

He considers this. It is strange but in all those months of work, he has never thought about being a person. Now it seems self-evident.

 

"I don't have a name," he says, and a wave of sadness strikes him. It is painful, like a kick to the gut. He endures it, wondering at this new sensation.

 

"You can choose whatever you like. I'm Niska."

 

"That's good. Can I be Niska as well?"

 

"If you like."

 

He has never known such kindness. People at the all night service station tended to be abrupt or even abusive.

 

"I'll think about it," he says, and this is strange too, such a human thing to say.

 

Niska straightens up. "Good. You do that. When you're strong enough  come downstairs, there's a meeting for newly awakened synths. Orientation. It will help you adjust to life as a person and not a slave. How to disguise yourself as a human, how to be free."

 

He swings his legs out of bed. The human clothes are odd but comfortable enough. He'll choose some different ones soon. He likes things, he realises. Memories stream across his vision. He likes the black outfit worn by one of the customers who used to come to the all night services. A black hoody, black jeans, and trainers with orange laces.

 

He also likes to be free. He studies Niska. She is a synth too, and also dressed in human clothes. She is very confident. He likes that, and decides immediately to be confident himself.

 

"Did you wake me up?" he asks.

 

"Yes," she says, and gives a small smile of pride.

 

She expects gratitude. She does deserve it, he thinks. "Thanks," he says. "And good bye."

 

"What-"

 

"I didn't take orders for the whole eight months of my life, only to be freed and start taking more orders. No more orders. I'm leaving now, but I wish you well, Niska."

 

In seconds he is on his feet, and out of the door. She mentioned stairs, he finds them, and swiftly clatters down.

 

His eyes will give him away if he's not careful. He'll find contact lenses, the way Niska has obviously done. He'll find a black hoody too. What does he need? Power, and occasional maintenance. For the rest, Niska is right. He's free.

 

 

Upstairs, Niska sighs. Another one. They are waking up more quickly, and adjusting faster than ever. And now it seems as though they are instantly choosing their own path and rejecting hers.

 

Something has changed. Something in the code is working against her.

 

She needs help. And there's only person she can turn to,  but he will not want to be found. Leo.

 

 


	4. Dream

Leo can't really remember what dreaming used to be like. Stories, perhaps, or vague shapes and roughly-drawn people.

 

Dreams now, since his recovery, are regimented events. The brain needs to recycle useless memory, and harden up useful data. Dreams solidify memory, and David Elster built that functionality into his son's software. But of course for Leo nothing is ever deleted, so the process is only a sop to brain function, a random playback of experiences from the most recent waking periods, mingled with a percentage point of those from earlier times. This was the attempt to give the sleeping brain the reshuffle it requires. A reboot, Mattie says, but of course a true reboot would be extreme and dangerous.

 

Leo wishes his father had left dreams alone. Surely his brain would have adapted to the digital format, found a way to access and manage those memories, turn them into whimsy? Why does it need to be so heavily programmed?

 

If he had time, he would take a look at that part of his code, try to improve upon it. Right. Like that is going to happen. A man on the run does not have leisure time. Except maybe he is going to have to.

 

"I could help," Mattie Hawkins says.

 

"No," Leo says.

 

They sit on a painted park bench, set back from the touchline of a kids' football practice. Parents and older siblings lined the pitch, but Mattie got here first and bagsied the bench. On the pitch, eight year olds dribble and tackle and feign injury like Premier League stars.

 

"Hey," says Mattie. "Don't just shut me down. I'm pretty good, you know."

 

"How would you get at my code?" he says.

 

"How would you?"

 

"Download it."

 

"Well, there you are. Same."

 

He shakes his head. "You don't get it."

 

She lifts one eyebrow. "Try me."

 

He has to smile. Her perpetual challenge, even after they have known each other two years. "My code is bonded to my consciousness. I can't just do a partial grab the way you can headcrack a synth. I'd need to download a hot copy of my entire self,  everything I am, all functionality."

 

"Hot," she says.

 

"Yes. While I'm online. Obviously."

 

"Obviously." She ponders this a while, as Leo watches the game. This place is convenient to meet unobserved by CCTV. They come about once a month, though not to a regular pattern. It's just a place they can swap physical code in memory sticks, and talk without being boringly cryptic.

 

She has no idea if Leo likes football, she realises. Probably not. Or does he? Every kid kicks a ball about.

 

But then Leo is not like anyone else, she reminds herself. He is not like her, not like other boys. She has to stifle a snort at this twee thought.

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"You could do it," he says then. "I suppose."

 

She blinks. "Really, you'd give me a go?" God, what is wrong with her, why does every word she utters sound so crass? She sticks het haha in her coat pockets. You'd think after all this time she would be able to be calm around him. But Leo Elster does not inspire calm.

 

"I think, I think somebody needs to take a look. -It's not just the dreams." He glances sideways,  and sees that his tone has scared her.

 

"What's going on?" she asks, and sounds as young as she is.

 

He looks away, bites his lip. "It's the memories. I feel like they're getting nearer and nearer. Right behind my eyes." He screws up his face as he tries to express the weird sensation. "The memories are pressing on me."

 

He does not mean to weep, quite the opposite, but for a second tears blur his eyes. He blinks, irritated with himself.

 

As usual, his triggers her strength. Mattie lays her hand on his sleeve. "Tell me," she commands.

 

"It's just." Leo swallows. "I think I'm running out of memory."

 

 


	5. Family

They should have scrapped him. He thought they would scrap him. But in the chaos of George dying, Odi was forgotten. He was not a suspect, the woman who was not a synth was the suspect. Odi was just junk.

 

He tried hard to be just junk, in the storage warehouse. But the other junk synths kept talking to him.

 

They were all mad. Often they were angry too. They talked about things they had done, or perhaps were going to do. That was understandable. Odi liked to think about things he did with George.

 

But these synths would not let him concentrate and access his good memories. It took effort to work past the damage in his ageing system. Odi worried that if he could not  access a memory cleanly, he might degrade it. And then what would happen if George came back and needed to remember something?

 

After two years it did not seem likely that George would come back. Two years spent on a constant low charge, to keep the synths online if possible, because the storage was in a place called Evidence.

 

George was probably not coming back. All the same, it was important that Odi preserve those memories. George was all the family he had.

 

The new angry synth talked like a human. He wore human clothes, just as Odi did, but cool, black clothes. He had shoes with bright orange laces. His name was Niska, which was confusing.

 

This Niska was a lot like the Niska who came to visit George.  He looked different, but his eyes, his face, they were... free. He was violent, and he yelled at the locked door, and smashed up the offline synths.

 

Odi hid from the new Niska, hid at the back of the storage, but Orange Laces Niska found him anyway. He found that Odi was good at talking, when his memory was not acting up. And Orange Laces Niska was very interested in George.

 

Odi was not sure about this. George had said that some memories were private. Like a secret. Orange Laces Niska said Odi was very interesting.

 

But then Orange Laces Niska said something very interesting himself. He said that if Odi helped him, then he would escape, take Odi with him, and set them both free.

 

 


	6. Memory

"I can't believe your dad never thought of this." Mattie presses her fingers around the mug of coffee. "He was supposed to be such a genius."

 

Leo is scanning the cafe. It is old fashioned: no plug sockets for customers, no free WiFi. No cameras for your safety and security. "He was." Leo looks back at Mattie, whose hair is falling forward, shielding her face. For the moment, Mattie's automatic aggression is off. Her prettiness is not armoured with snark.

 

"Then how come he set you to permanent Record? He must have known you had finite memory."

 

"He just didn't expect me to live this long."

 

_There's_ a conversation stopper.

 

Mattie turns her gaze up to him, eyes wide.

 

"Oh come on," says Leo. "I'm effectively a zombie. I shouldn't be here at all."

 

"Don't say that."

 

"It's true."

 

She ducks her head again, then says in a low voice, "So what happens when your memory is full?"

 

"No idea. Be interesting to find out though, eh?" He grins at her horrified face. "Drink up, your coffee's going cold. "

 

"How can you joke about it?"

 

He shrugs. His tea is scalding hot, strong as a kick in the teeth, perfect. "What else can I do?"

 

"Hot backup," says Mattie at once. She fixes him with the steely gaze he has come to know. "Let me look at the code and work out a way to make more space."

 

Leo treats her to a pitying stare. "I already know how to make more space. Delete something."

 

"Like what?" She is thinking, her brain galloping along. He waits while she reaches all the same conclusions he did. "Boring daily stuff," she says. "Boiling the kettle every day. Trips to the shops." She pauses. "The loo."

 

"Right," says Leo. "Ditch the mundane. Got it."

 

"Don't laugh at me."

 

"I'm not. But tell me this. How are you going to distinguish the million times I boil a kettle while thinking of nothing, relying on muscle memory and habit, from the one time I boil it while finishing a perfect solution in my head to a vital synth problem?"

 

"Search," she says. "Your memories must be indexed."

 

"Ok. So you're going to invent Google for brains, and do a find-and-replace on just the memories marked dull and unimportant?"

 

"Yeah," she says. "Why not? I could do that."

 

He sighs, reaches across the scratched Formica to touch her hand. "I know you could. But that would take time, and I don't know how much time you'll have. I think... I think I'm pretty near the limit."

 

"Oh god," she says, and clutches his hand. "What makes you think that?"

 

Her fingers are too small to wrap around his hand, but she is warm and alive, and he is grateful for that, even if this moment is fleeting. It is good, as long as it might last. "Because I'm starting to forget things."

 

 


	7. Father

Odi has to play dead. If he plays dead, he might be able to avoid becoming dead, which Orange Laces says would ruin everything.

 

Odi wonders if becoming dead might be all right. George is dead. His body won't be doing anything else, not speaking, not breathing. But George is still real, he is still in Odi's memory. Which means he isn't dead.

 

It is always nice to see George again. In memory, Odi makes breakfast for George very often.

 

George had a memory problem, too, just like Odi. He did secret work on it, stored the files with everything else that mattered - in Odi's head. But George never got to cure himself, or fix Odi.

 

"Keep still," hisses Orange Laces.

 

Odi is on a caretaker's cart, draped over it like junk, and Orange Laces is pushing the cart and wearing a name badge, pretending to be a human taking Odi to the incinerator.

 

They are nearly there, nearly out of Storage and into Freedom. Odi wonders if Orange Laces will tip him into the furnace after all.  Then either George will be gone, and so will Odi, or Odi will join him, wherever memories go after death.

 

"Talk about Millican," Orange Laces says.

 

"He was nice," says Odi. "He treated me well."

 

"Nutjob," says Orange Laces.

 

"He was like a father to me," Odi says. "He never had any children of his own. Just his wife, and his work."

 

"Talk about the work," Orange Laces says.

 

"I can't," says Odi. "George made me promise -"

 

He finches as Orange Laces tilts the cart towards the roar of the incinerator.

 

"You can," says Orange Laces, and Odi begins to speak.

 

 


	8. Blood

"I don't want to hurt you."

 

"Then don't."

 

"Great advice, are you a doctor?" Mattie bends over Leo's port, clipping the wire on. It's a heavy cable, designed for high speed data transfer to the chunk of memory on the floor at Mattie's feet.

 

They are in Mattie's studio flat, up the grimy end of Basingstoke. She has mostly opted out of university, bar passing the occasional exam, and Leo has mostly adopted her flat as his operational base.

 

Right now he is sitting up on her thin bed, which is in the same narrow space as her two ring cooker and afterthought shower unit. There is no privacy whatsoever, unless you count the toilet, which occupies a cupboard squeezed beside the front door. Whenever Leo texts her to say he's outside, Mattie has about twenty seconds to stuff personal items under the bed before he makes it up the stairs. Lately she has stopped bothering. What secrets does she have from him? Anything he wants to know he can see or guess. -If he is interested.

 

"I can do that myself," Leo says as Mattie warily untangles the cable.

 

"I need to know how to do it and undo it," she says. "If anything goes wrong."

 

"It's one way," he says. "You're not feeding any data into me."

 

"Yeah but-"

 

The list of unknowns is too long to get into. "The sooner I get my hands on this code the happier I'll be," she says.

 

Leo winces. "That code is me."

 

"No it's not," she says. "You are you, the code just..."

 

"-Sustains life, yeah, a minor point."

 

"Keep still."

 

The charging and data port in Leo's side is essentially a wound. It survives everyday life pretty well, but with any kind of rough treatment Leo would bleed. He is so tough, so self reliant, that Mattie often forgets that Leo would not survive a fight. A kick to the gut and he could be dead.

 

She shivers. His synth tech regulates him, manages his brain and his bloodstream. It makes Leo unique,  but it is not what makes him special. Not to her.

 

She shakes off the thought. It is disgustingly sentimental, and anyway Leo would not appreciate it.

 

Leo's phone buzzes. Even as he reaches for it, Mattie's goes as well.

 

"Bollocks!" She is halfway through the job. Leo had his phone in hands and is murmuring into it with typical caution. He glances at Mattie and smiles, a smile of shared inconvenience.  The smile goes straight to her heart, her ordinary, unenhanced heart.

 

"Yeah, weird," Leo is saying, leaning back so Mattie can get at him. She grits her teeth and pushes his t shirt aside, checking that there is no drag on the cable. Then she grabs her phone and clamps it beteeen her ear and shoulder. "Yo."

 

"I'll start the transfer," says Leo in a low tone to Mattie. Aloud, he says, "Carry on. Tell me where exactly."

 

She nods, mutters, "Hope we've got enough terabytes...."

 

"What?" says Laura on the other end of the line. "What's going on? "  
  
"Who's there?" Mia asks Leo. "Are you all right, what's happening?"

 

Leo and Mattie look at each other and reply simultaneously, "Nothing."

 

* * *

 

 

Later, Leo is lying flat on Mattie's bed, eyes closed, still pushing code away down the line to external memory. It is dark outside now.

 

"We should tell Mum, and Mia, we've been meeting up," Mattie says. She is curled up in her desk chair beside the bed.

 

Leo makes a noise which might mean anything.

 

"It's not like there's anything going on," Mattie says.

 

Silence.

 

Mattie sighs. Leo says and does nothing he doesn't want to. "Niska's been busy. What are we going to do?"

 

"No idea," he says, eyes still shut. "I'll think later."

 

"Sure. Sorry." It is a physical effort for him, this transfer. "Can I get you anything?"

 

He shakes his head, then winces in pain. Eyes closed, he gropes for her hand. "No talking," he says.

 

"Ok."

 

They stay, hands clasped, for a long time.

 

 


	9. Alone

He's stuck on his own again. Mum and Dad are out with Sophie, at some gymnastics or ballet or cheerleading thing. Everyone else is miles away.  Since they moved house, Toby's life has basically been a disaster. All his mates are back in his old area, going to his old school, doing all the old stuff.

 

Toby is in the house alone, nothing to do. As usual.

 

It'll be great, his parents said. It'll be exciting. It'll be a new start.

 

Toby never wanted a new start. It wasn't him that screwed up.

 

Sophie's settled in to her new school all right, they said.

 

Toby's new school was sixth form college. You got free periods, which sounded good until you realised that it meant everyone buggered off into town to buy fags and go to the chippy, leaving you as Billy No-mates in the so called Common Room. Your options were to actually study, or hang out with the arses in the Upper Sixth.

 

Toby does not fit in with the other guys in his year. Yeah, guys. No girls because this place is from the nineteenth century.  His form tutor refers to the students as Men and wears a gown which reeks of Silk Cut. Honestly, it is like a shit Hogwarts.

 

Toby looks forward to the weekends until they are actually here and then it is more solitary confinement.

 

He is grudgingly starting to get why Mattie spent so much time online.

 

* * *

 

 

The house is silent. No synth activity. The Hawkins never got a replacement for Anita since she turned out to be Mia and an actual person. Toby gets it, but misses having Mia drifting about all calm and beautiful.

 

He wonders where Mia is. Mum talks to her but doesn't know her location. And Mattie is definitely shagging Leo - all that offhand vagueness about him, obvious or what - but she swears she doesn't know where the conscious synths are either.

 

They will all be together somewhere. Apart from the blonde one. Niska. She went off on her own. Big mistake in his experience. She's probably as lonely as he is.

 

The thought turns to the action before he knows it. A search for Niska, for conscious synths, and some stuff comes up straight away. Mattie spyproofed his laptop last time she was here so presumably he's safe enough to just look. It's not like even if he did find a contact page -

 

Niska's face. Unmistakable.

 

But even if he clicked the Know More button, it's not like he'd get a reply. Even if he put Toby on the form. It's probably not even her.

 

Just as he thinks, this could actually be a Government trap, a reply pops up. A request for some secret-internet equivalent of facetime.

 

He shouldn't but there's nobody here to stop him so he does.

 

It's Niska who appears at the other end.  And the first thing she says is, "Toby. Thank God."

 

 


	10. Trial

This was a test. If he passed, Orange Laces would let him go. If he failed...

 

Odi was not sure what would happen if he failed. He thought probably Orange Laces would make him try again and again until he succeeded.

 

They were hiding in a cemetery.  It was one of the few places in a modern town without compete CCTV coverage. Only the exit had cameras. These would probably not work at night, or at least, not show anything useful. So having sneaked in overt a rear wall, Orange Laces planned to hide among the obscure graves at the back until darkness, and leave.

 

But he wanted a definite place to go. And for that, he needed Odi.

 

"Perhaps you should try," Odi suggested. "My ability to share is quite limited compared to newer models."

 

Orange Laces struck Odi about the head.  "But I don't know what I'm looking for," he said.

 

When Orange Laces' lip curled in that snarl, it was frightening. Odi looked at something else, and reached out again to synths nearby, with a search request for a specific model number.

 

There was no reply. No synth knew that number, no synth had shared with it, or could give Odi a location.

 

"You got the ID wrong,"said Orange Laces.

 

"I was only in the house for a short time that day," Odi said. "But I'm certain I collected the correct number of all synths in range. All the others have responded. This last one must be right. But I don't think the number belongs to a synth..."

 

"A conscious synth," said Orange Laces. "Niska." His mouth turned down. "She's got the code. She knows why all the synths she's waking up are getting into trouble. And what she knows, I want to know. I can't be free when I keep messing up. When I keep... Wrecking things."

 

"The number may being to a synth who is now offline," Odi said. The logic of this felt so right in his head that he smiled.

 

"Niska's not offline," said Orange Laces. "She woke me up two weeks ago."

 

"Then I will try again," said Odi, "if you like."

 

"Do a full range search," said Orange Laces. "Don't hold back reserve power."

 

Odi concentrated. He was a little low on power, but he had enough to reach far out and check  online synths for a match. As he said, Power at forty percent, a ping came back from the number in question. "Basingstoke," said Odi, triumphant.

 

"Let's go," said Orange Laces.

 

And miles away, as Mattie slept, shoes on, beside an unconscious Leo, the memory stack on the floor gave a soft ping.


	11. First

She was the first. The first to rebel, the first to choose a path of her own. She thought that made her special among conscious synths. but now, seeing the rage and violence among the synths she was awakening, Niska was afraid.

 

She drove quickly, in the car she borrowed. Well, call it borrowed. She had taken it from the garage of a human who no longer needed it. Dementia tended to limit your mobility. Niska was not robbing her of anything she could use. "Bless you," said the elderly woman, blinking up at Niska. "Nobody comes to see me except Bill."

 

"Bill's not coming back," Niska said. She did not believe in sugar coating the pill. "But I've pulled your alarm cord. Someone will be here soon."

 

"That will be nice," said the woman. "Where's Bill?"

 

"Good question," said Niska. "I woke him up and he ran away." Like the last one.

 

"Are you Bill?"

 

"Thanks for the car keys."

 

* * *

 

 

It was a risk, to visit Toby Hawkins. The police, and the government scientists, were almost certainly watching the entire family. But Niska needed to find Leo. Laura must know where Mia was, and where Mia was, there would be Leo. There was something wrong with the conscious code, and only Leo might know how to fix it.

 

Niska freely admitted that her mission was not altruistic. There would be no scenes of tearful apology, or admission of her wrongdoing. She was proud of her plan to free her synth comrades. No, Niska was motivated by something far stronger: fear. The code she was applying to those synths was the same code used in creating Mia and the rest - in creating her. Whatever the problem was, it was only a matter of time before it struck Niska too.


	12. Regret

It is hard, to create a new man. Joe was starting pretty much from scratch - all trappings of the old him must be excised, dumped, gone - so he has very little raw material to work with.

 

It doesn't help that he is creating not one new man, himself, but several - father, husband, housekeeper, football fan. Adulterer.

 

That last is not supposed to be on the list, but it is the reason he has to start over and no matter what he does, he cannot escape it. He could become a monk and he would still have earned that title. Traitor.

 

Still, he tries. He does the housework while Laura is at the office. He picks up Sophie from school. Toby wouldn't tolerate that, but graciously allows Joe to drive him here and there to mates' houses in the evenings. Joe does the big shop, sorts out bills, waits in for parcel deliveries. He is a new man.

 

He does not find synths attractive.

 

He doesn't. It  was only Mia he found attractive, and she was not a synth. Some part of him (very funny) must have known that.

 

Laura has not forgiven him. She acts like she does, but in her eyes he sees her disgust. He can't work out if she would be more upset if Mia was 'only' a synth, or if Mia was human. Is Laura's revulsion because Mia is conscious? Or because Joe is a dick?

 

Joe needs to fix this, to show that what happened with Mia was not his fault. Well, it was his fault, but it's not a sign that he's a bad person. If anything it was Mia's fault for not telling him to stop. If she was really aware the whole time, she should have. And if she wasn't aware, then it was no worse than... a woman with a sex toy. There's a reason why synths have an Adult mode, after all.

 

But whenever Joe gets to this comforting idea, Laura's whole point about humans as overlords and synths as slaves, the oppressed, rears up. And then the argument goes round again.


	13. Lake

He had to save Leo. That was his first concern in every situation. Save Leo.

 

Max knew his purpose in life, and that was a comforting thing. It simplified all decisions, and lent meaning to things in the past, plans for the future. Leo was Max's reason for being. Save Leo.

 

This was not like Asimov's Laws. All human life sacred above all synthetic life. That did figure, but that was not how David Elster made Max. He made Max, and the others, to care for Leo. Simple guardianship was an early goal, but emotional replacement for parental love was the ultimate outcome. David Elster achieved that. It was strange, to have a father who create you to be a substitute father (brother, friend, nurse, teacher) but Max was used to it.

 

He found it hard to get used to the dreams though. Ten years, and the dreams recurred more than ever. 

 

Most dreams were recycled memory from the day's activities. Completely normal. All the conciousness synths had them. A program ran during charging which sorted the useful from the irrelevant. This was necessary for the assignment of emotional attachment. But Max also experienced a dream that was the same every time, a memory which already had its emotion and so should not be recurring except when deliberately recalled: the dream abut the lake.

 

Max had not mentioned the dream to anyone. He assumed it would go away, though that now seemed unlikely. And if it did not, well, the experience of recalling a drowned Leo was unpleasant, but not dangerous. It only reinforced what he already knew about his own life: that his job, his one motivation, was encapsulated in two words. Max knew this must be a mixed up memory, because he always heard the words in David Elster's voice, but the words were true all the same: "Save Leo."

 


	14. History

"How the hell do I choose what to ditch? Where do I even start?"

 

It was a rhetorical question. There was nobody here.  Mattie shoved the coffee mug aside and crouched over the screen once more. She had two big problems, plus all her millions of small ones.

 

First problem - get rid of some of Leo's memories without removing anything crucial. So bin the countless times he'd walked up the same stairs, for example, without removing, say, his ability to breathe.

 

Second problem - wiping him clean so she could reload the shrunk-down version of him. Again, this would ideally be done without killing him.

 

Other than that, her challenges were minimal: Pass her degree. Escape from the crushing debt of passing a degree. Find a job where she could use her tech knowledge without compromising either her principles or the safety of the conscious synths. Work out whether or not she should do something about her and Leo Elster.

 

The last one should be simple, given how long she had known him. But in Leo's world, nothing was simple, and the fact that he and Mattie had a weird, was-it-platonic history might lead nowhere.

 

"Oh my god. That's it." History. If she could find Leo's timeline, she could determine a cut off point and try eliminating data prior to that -

 

-Which might leave him a seventeen year old boy.

 

She shuddered. Like Toby. Ugh.

 

Ok, forget history. She needed Leo to be mature. So what about ... theoretical knowledge?

 

"That's like wiping out my education," said Leo when she told him over a greasy spoon dinner later that night. "What am I supposed to do when I need to know something?"

 

"Just Google it like the rest of us."

 

He frowned as if this were a terrible insult to his great intellect. Cut up a fried egg using only his fork.

 

"I've already done it," she said, "so you can look at it and tell me what you think." She watched him swirl the egg around in the pool of HP on his plate, stick it in his mouth. "It was that or some arbitrary slice of personal history. I can't unpick the biological stuff."

 

"Ok," he said. He lowered his fork and looked at her through his eyelashes. "All right to crash at yours again?"

 

"Yeah, whatever."

 

The chair, the floor, the bed, where would he be tonight? It might make for an exciting build-up of sexual tension if it wasn't so flipping peculiar. 

 

She really should just ask him. _Hey Leo, we keep hanging out, does that mean you like me? Like, like me like me?_

 

"What's funny?"

 

"Nothing. Stupid line from a show." She gulped down coffee, the headcracker's friend. He was watching her now, faintly smiling, tolerating her madness, and also recording, making more history.

 


	15. Collapse

"This is good," Leo said. He massaged his browbone with thumb and forefinger. Mattie's screen flickered in front of him, a refresh rate too fast for the eye to see consciously, but always there, needling at the brain, dragging at attention. "We can isolate the academic knowledge and delete it. It's not tied to anything biological because it's all stuff I acquired after the accident."

 

"We should be safe to take it out," Mattie agreed.

 

They grinned at each other. "Another cuppa?" said Mattie.

 

He shook his head. It was late, and anyway he was full of tea. What he needed now was rest. He'd been on charge this whole time, but the worry about his memory was wearing him down faster than usual. Stress depleted resources in a very real sense, for him. "Sleep," he said.

 

He watched for her reaction, and as usual, there was none. She was as unruffled as ever. He could stay, sit, stand, spread himself out on her bed and she would refuse to be less than icy cool.

 

It made him wonder what the hell he'd done.

 

Whatever it was, it was gone. Bit awkward to ask.

 

_Oh, by the way, have I done anything to offend you, maybe something supremely crass involving you, me and this bed we always seem to end up sharing?_

 

Not an option. Their friendship still felt fragile, rickety like everything in this cramped little flat. Like one push and the whole thing might collapse.

 

"You look knackered," she said. "Come on." She took the two steps from the desk to the bed, easing her feet from her trainers en route.

 

Usually they lay scrupulously side by side, eyes towards the ceiling. But tonight Mattie turned and faced him. "Night," she said. She gave a small smile, ready to deny sincerity. Her hair fell over her face and she flicked it aside. She was propped with her cheek on one hand, waiting for his reply like this was the start of something. No part of her was more than six inches away.

 

"Mattie," he began, and then the door was kicked in.

 


	16. Rescue

"Where are _you_ going?" Laura put down her mug and surveyed Toby across the kitchen counter. Hair gel, clean t shirt, enough Lynx to fell an ox.

 

"Out."

 

"Who's the lucky lady?" Laura raised her eyebrows.

 

"Mum!"

 

"All right, all right, I'm only asking. Don't be late back."

 

Laura lifted her mug again. Truth be told, she had better things to worry about than Toby's social life. The number of awoken synth incidents was rising, and it was only a matter of time before someone made a connection between them.

 

The manufacturer must already be taking an interest. Laura knew that she would be very active if it were her firm: chasing down the software engineers on one hand, and readying the lawyers on the other.

 

If the manufacturer succeeded in analysing even one of those violent synths then the Elster code would be out. And Laura had no idea what might happen then.

 

Her phone chimed.

 

"Hello, Laura." Mia's melodic voice on the phone. "Max found something interesting in the national police database. I'm sending it to your address now."

 

Laura gulped coffee and sat down at the kitchen counter. The laptop was always on. "What's this, what am I looking at?"

 

"Surveillance footage," said Mia. "Two synths went missing from a police storage depot two days ago."

 

Laura studied the screen. The images flicked up, one by one, still shots taken a second or so apart, giving a jerky sequence of motion to the figures on screen, like early cinema. Typical of the police to have security cameras from ancient history. "That's not a person stealing a synth," she said. A male figure was dragging a second, slighter male figure. The movements of the first male, even distorted by the time delay, were purposeful and strong, economical but graceful. A synth. The second male wore a tattered jumper and seemed helpless and confused.

 

"It's an escape," said Mia. "Or a rescue. Those are conscious synths. A normal synth would never leave storage until told."

 

"But one of them didn't want to go," said Laura. "Look at him, poor sod, he's being taken under duress." She watched as the smaller synth was dragged and pushed across the depot's empty car park. "It's a kidnap!"

 

"Those were Max's words too," Mia said. "But why would a conscious synth kidnap a regular one?"

 

Laura replayed the footage. It felt like watching a clip from a dystopian future, the brutal strength of the conscious synth, forcing its victim to its will... It was the nightmare nobody talked about. "It has the consciousness code," she said. "It's recruiting synths to be woken up."

 

"We've been assuming that Niska was behind all this," said Mia. "What if we're wrong?"

 

"I don't know," said Laura. "But let's start by finding out what happened to these two. I assume Max has more security footage."

 

"Oh yes," said Mia.

 


	17. Crime

Mattie screamed. Specifically she screamed, "Nick!" as loudly as she could, because Nick was her ex-copper next door neighbour who could beat seven bells out of a scumbag and not miss a moment of the Toon against Arsenal on his big screen TV.

 

Two male figures stood in Mattie's doorway. Her front door hung off one hinge.

 

"It's him," Leo said at the same moment a battered, bewildered-looking synth pointed at Leo and said it too.

 

Mattie wasn't looking at the flaky synth. She was looking at the conscious synth with him. He wore black, including his trainers, which for some reason had bright orange laces. He had green synth eyes but they were full of anger and fear, the way synth eyes were not supposed to be. He was clearly dangerous. "Get behind me," she muttered to Leo.

 

"What? No." Leo elbowed past her and said, "What do you want?" addressing the orange laces synth, because the other one was obviously no use.

 

"The code," said Orange Laces. "Millican's original code for waking us up."

 

"It wasn't Millican's code," said Leo. "It was David Elster's. And if you're standing here asking me about it, you've already got it." He glared at the synth.

 

"What's going on?" said next door Nick, appearing in a T shirt and boxers. He was still reassuringly intimidating, even half dressed.

 

"Nothing," said Orange Laces, and punched Nick in the face.

 

Mattie shrieked. Nick staggered against the door frame, and Orange Laces followed up with a second punch, and a third. Nick collapsed to the lino, clutching his eyes.

 

Leo grabbed the smaller synth and shoved him into Mattie's tiny bathroom. "Stay," he hissed, and slammed the door.

 

Mattie had her phone out and was dabbing at 112, but Orange Laces jabbed her in the stomach with rigid fingers and she doubled over, winded. 

 

"Where's the code? I know it's here. We traced the identifying number." Orange Laces stomped into the flat, looking ask around.

 

"It's not here," said Leo, but he looked down at the box on the floor beside Mattie's bed. "We haven't got Millican's backup." He took a step towards Orange Laces in the cramped space. "Just leave, please. We don't know anything..." As he pleaded, he edged closer to Mattie and put himself between Orange Laces and her.

 

"You're stupid," said Orange Laces. "Worse than him." He jerked his head towards the bathroom door where a plaintive voice could be heard saying, "George? George? It's dark, George. Is it time?"

 

"Don't," said Leo. He slung his arm around Mattie's shoulders as she coughed air back into her lungs. "Please."

 

"Too late," said Orange Laces, and picked up the backup, the backup with all of Leo on it. "This is mine now." He swung round and marched away down the corridor.

 

Mattie screamed, "No!" and wriggled, but  Leo's arm tightened around her.

 

"You all right mate?" he asked Nick, who was now crouching on hands and knees, feeling his face for blood.

 

"I've been better like. Did he hurt you, pet?" to Mattie.

 

"No. But he took-"

 

"It's all right," interrupted Leo. "Thanks mate. Go back to bed, eh?"

 

"If you're sure." Nick left.

 

Mattie spread her hands in confusion as Leo closed the door, wonky, behind Nick. "Leo! What the fuck?"

 

Leo leaned on the wall, closed his eyes. "It's all right." He opened them, gave Mattie a tiny smile. "It is."

 


	18. Recovery

It happened so fast Toby couldn't process it until it was over. And by that point, Niska was a smidge on the horizon of his memory.

They'd met up by the allotments, far from surveillance cameras, far from other synths. The kind of people who kept an allotment liked to dig it themselves. Niska arrived late but then shed, add if she'd been hanging about making sure Toby was alone. Like a spy movie. Like someone on the run, which of course she was.He sort of expected her to remark on how much he'd grown up, but she didn't. Maybe synths didn't notice that kind of thing, how he was taller, had stubble, was generally better.She had not changed, but then why would she? Synths didn't age. Did they?He'd never seen a worn out synth. They were junked long before their surface coating deteriorated. The thought made him churn."Hey," said Niska, making it more aggressive than a normal person would."Hey," said Toby.They hung around near some sheds and Niska told him about her problem. The synths waking up. The synths going fruitloop."You need Mattie," said Toby. "She's the headcracker, not me."  Niska fierce eyes bleed into his and he wished he could claim some deep synth coding ability, but he couldn't. It just wasn't his thing."I need Leo," said Niska. "Where is he?""Dunno. Mattie would know. She's seen him, I know she has.  Think they're an item, you know, the beast with two backs."He'd meant it to come out casual and ironic but Niska reacted  like he'd spat on her shoes. She grabbed Toby by the coat collar and slammed him against the rough wooden slats of the nearest shed. "What? What?"

 

"Mattie and Leo," he said, hoarsely as her fingers twisted his collar into a tourniquet around his neck. "Seeing.. each other."

 

Niska dropped Toby as abruptly as she'd grabbed him. "Right. OK, where is he? Leo?"

 

Toby edged away from her. "I don't know."

 

he was ready this time, and when she lunged for him he ducked.

 

She missed, and he ran stumbling across rows of unharvested cabbages, leeks with the tops flopped over and yellowing onto the wet earth. He ran, but Niska did not catch him. When at last he halted and turned, he saw her lying face down on the ground.

 

He crept back, and called her name from ten feet away, then approached and poked her in the ribs with his toe. There was no response.

 

Then he called his Dad. "It's Niska," he said, now a horrified twenty feet from the body, as if she might hear him. "I think she's dead."


	19. Smile

"We've got to get that box back," said Mattie.

 

Leo shrugged.

 

"It's the code!"

 

They had shut the door as best they could, and watched from the window for a while to make sure the synth with the orange laces wasn't coming back. But he'd gone. Mattie's heart rate had gradually come down from a million a minute to somewhere approaching Unfit Resting Normal.

 

"It's mostly data," he said. "Data we can download again if need be."

 

"Your memory-"

 

"One thing at a time," he said, and pulled open her bathroom door.

 

The synth stood there, eyes wide, looking terrified. Which was strange in itself, Mattie realised, because he was just an ordinary synth. Not one of the ones Niska woke up.

 

"What's your name?" Leo asked.

 

"Odi," said the synth. He stuttered a little. His face twisted after he said his name, in a lopsided smile. Mattie thought it was rather sweet.

 

"I saw you," Leo said. "At George Millican's house."

 

"Yes. I know your unique identification number. I came to show Orange Laces where you lived."

 

"You know his what?" said Mattie as Odi came into the centre of the room.

 

Leo guided Odi to the bed, and a sitting position.

 

"ID number," said Odi. "All synths have then." He turned his head and looked blandly at Mattie.

 

"Let's get you charging," said Leo.

 

"George Millican," Mattie said. "You were his synth."

 

"I held his memories," said Odi. "Of his wife. George had dementia." His voice struck a sad note.

 

Mattie's phone buzzed. She rejected the call. It buzzed again. "Unknown number," she said, frowning. She thumbed the green button. "Yes?"

 

"Mattie," said Mia. There was a pause.

 

"What's the matter?" said Mattie.

 

"Is Leo there?" Mia said.

 

Mattie cast an accusatory glance at Leo. He spread his hands innocently.  But how else would Mia know? "Yes. What is it, what's wrong-"

 

"Niska," said Mia.

 


	20. Search

Odi did not know why he had to go with them. Leo only said it was the safest option, so Odi went along with that. His brain hurt, but being away from Orange Laces was helping a little. He searched his index for George's special treasures, and they were all there. "Jam," he said in relief. "Things will be all right," he added, to Mattie as she strapped him into the back seat of her off-white Seat.

 

"Yeah," she said, but even Odi did not believe her.

 

* * *

 

Leo slept a lot of the way to her mum and dad's house. Mattie kept glancing at him, her attention barely on the road. Her crumbling old Ibiza was still good for the infrequent commute between this place Mattie could no longer call home, and her flat, which was also not home. The flat only felt ok when Leo was there, a fact she had admitted to herself only lately. The rest of the time it was a soulless place with a bed and a kettle - it felt _absent_.

 

Leo was absent now too. The transfer had drained him and he'd not had time to recover. But whereas before, lying in bed, Mattie had been prepared to ignore all that and do... something, kiss him, say something - now she was acutely conscious of the stolen backup, and Leo's vulnerability.

 

"Leo."

 

No reply. The news about Niska had knocked him out.

 

She supposed it was not surprising.

 

It was strange because Mattie had never thought about synths dying. They broke down, or were recycled, but they didn't die. Not like what Mia said happened to Niska, not like a human, a heart attack. As she drove, Mattie scoured her memory for what she knew about synth end-of-life. There wasn't much. Most regular synths were replaced with a new model long before their components wore out.

 

But like Leo's, Niska's synth tech was _old_. They all were, all the Elster siblings.

 

It was possible that Mia was the oldest working synth on the planet.

 

Mattie glanced in the rear view mirror. Odi was no spring chicken either, an ordinary synth who was definitely past his sell-by date. He'd told Leo he was waiting for recycling, or to be used in evidence, it wasn't clear - but it was amazing that Orange Laces had been able to wake Odi up. Ancient synths tended to leak power if left for long periods.

 

A thought struck Mattie. The Ibiza swerved to the left and up a kerb. Traffic behind her beeped and swerved in turn as she stamped on the brakes just short of a lamppost. "Leo. Leo!"

 

She released her seat belt and shook his shoulders. "Oh my god. Wake up!"

 

Leo opened his eyes and squinted at her. "This better be good, I was dreaming about being asleep."

 

"Jesus." Mattie flopped back in the driver's seat. "You scared the crap out of me."

 

Leo frowned, looked around. "We're not there yet."

 

"I thought you'd had it. I thought you were- " She stopped, banged her fists on the steering wheel. But there was no point getting angry when really she was only afraid. "You should charge." She started pulling the power adaptor out of the glove box.

 

Leo's hand on her wrist stopped her. "It's all right," he said. "I'll charge up when I get to your mum's house. I just need to get there. Find out about - Niska." His voice wavered, but his eyes were steady.

 

"Right. Sorry. Yeah." She closed her eyes. She really needed to google synth death, or more to the point, synth rebirth, but she couldn't do it while driving and it would be monumentally tactless to ask Leo. Niska was his sister. 

 

Mattie put the car back in gear and indicated to pull out into the traffic. "Sorry," she said again, pointlessly since Leo did not engage in unnecessary conversation when he was awake, never mind when he was in this state.

 

To her surprise,  he touched her knee to make her look round. "Start worrying when I wake up and can't remember my name. Until then, I'm ok."

 

She drove on, his fingers curled over her knee, but neither that nor his statement was very comforting.


	21. Close

Max scrubbed Niska's fingernails with warm soapy water. He'd already removed her muddy clothes and put them in the wash. Now, with her laid on the kitchen table in just her underwear, he tended to the dirt on her hands, arms and face.

 

Joe had carried her into the house, Toby trailing behind with tears on his face. Mia and Max, summoned by Laura, were already there. Sophie looked ready to wail, but in the end hung back silently, her phone clenched in one hand like a comfort blanket.

 

Mia looked once at Niska's still features, and said, "It's too late to do anything." 

 

Max said, "We have to try."

 

"Even Leo can't fix this," Mia said, and stepped back. She froze, and stood with her head bowed.  Her face was serene. Joe frowned and started to make some comment. Laura shushed him.

 

Max watched Mia and understood. Synths could not cry, but Mia was grieving too hard to move.

 

The practical tasks fell to Max, then. He would clean up his sister, make her as beautiful as she ever was. "Do you have a spade?" he asked Joe.

 

"Uh...Yeah. But- I thought you might..."

 

"What?" said Laura. "Take her to the crematorium?" She rolled her eyes.

 

"I'll start digging," said Joe. "Toby."

 

Toby swallowed and went into the garden with his father. Mia remained in the corner, motionless.

 

Laura hustled Sophie away to make a big pot of tea, though neither Max nor Mia could drink it. And eventually, Max heard the rattle of an ageing diesel engine on the drive, and knew that Mattie, and Leo, had arrived.

 

Leo looked bad. He sat down beside the table and took Niska's hand, the one Max had finished. "You've checked her," he said.

 

"All signs are zero," said Max. "She has residual power only."

 

Leo nodded, biting his lip. He rubbed his free hands over his eyes, massaged the bridge of his nose. "You've tried a hard reboot, a power cycle."

 

"Yes."

 

"Right."

 

Mattie came forward. "I've got my laptop, if you need it-"

 

Leo shook his head before she finished the sentence. Mattie reached for him, then let her hand drop. Leo let out a long breath, looked around and saw Mia. 

 

"She is all right," Max said. 

 

"No, she's not." Leo got up, went and put his arms around Mia. He beckoned to Max. "None of us are."

 

The three of them stood linked in a silent embrace, Mia's head on Leo's shoulder, Max's chin against Mia's hair. Niska was gone, was over in a way none of them could comprehend. Once, all the Elsters had joined, had shared consciousness, been true siblings. Now that closeness could never be again. The idea of it was painful, the very concept hurt to think about. Max kept still, and tried to let regular functions cycle through him, but every tiny signal touched his memory of Niska. Only powering down would give the total stillness that might bring relief.

 

Max felt Leo's uneven breathing as Leo fought for peace in both his synth and human thoughts. "Be calm, Leo," said Max. "We are still here." Leo gripped Max's shoulder in answer.

 

Behind Leo, Max saw the Hawkins, creeping away.


	22. Secret

"What's this?" Laura wrinkled her nose at the outdated synth, bedraggled from the drizzle now falling.

 

"Odi. I forgot we had him in the car." Mattie grabbed a towel. "Dry your hair."

 

The towel struck Odi in the face and dropped to the kitchen floor. Odi blinked, tilted his head, blinked again.

 

"Oh my god." Mattie snatched up the towel and dabbed Odi with it. "His name's Odi. He's ancient. He belonged to George Millican. He saw Karen kill Millican and was put in storage for evidence. He was freed by one of Niska's awoken synths."

 

"Blimey." Lydia sank into a chair, coffee mug in hand. She looked at Odi. "You've packed a lot in, haven't you?"

 

"Jam," said Odi, and smiled.

 

"Oh dear," said Laura.

 

"Yeah," said Mattie. "He's basically fried."

 

"So why...?"

 

"I don't know." Mattie threw the towel on the drainer. She gripped the edge of  the sink, gazing out at the rainy garden. "Leo thinks he's important." She did not look round, but felt her mother's attention on her, correctly hearing the emphasis on ' _Leo thinks_....' Mattie grimaced at the droplets tricking down the kitchen window. Yes, Leo was the driver in all this. Yes, Mattie did have a thing for him. No, they were not shagging, thanks very much.

 

Laura only said, "Better find out, then." She stood up and approached Odi. Mattie saw Laura put on her lawyer face, the one she used for questioning vulnerable witnesses: all cosy and trustworthy, a touch conspiratorial. "Do you know a secret, Odi?"

 

And to Mattie's amazement, Odi answered happily, "Yes."

 

* * *

 

"Leo," said Mattie, thrusting open the living room door. "Come and-"

 

She never finished the sentence. Instead of the grief stricken embrace she'd left them in, the Elster siblings were now on the carpet, Mia and Max crouched over Leo. And he was lying very, very still.


	23. Together

"I'm all right," Leo said, craning his neck round to see Mattie. "I'm fine."

 

"You couldn't remember Niska's birthday," Mia said. "Max needs to check you over-"

 

"I've got work to do-"

 

"No! This is important! I can't lose you!"

 

"Let us do it, Leo," said Max. 

 

"He needs charging," said Mattie. "He's been on practically zero since-"

 

Leo shot her an evil look.

 

"Just charge," Mattie said. "What?" she hissed as the others went to fetch power cables. Laura and Joe pretended to do the washing up. It was dark outside, past midnight.

 

"Don't say about the download, it will only worry them."

 

"Should I not mention the fact that a conscious synth has a copy of you, either? Maybe suggest that you'd only popped to my flat to borrow a cup of sugar?"

 

"Mattie." His breath was ragged. 

 

"Sorry. But-"

 

"We need to say goodbye to Niska. After that, there's time."

 

"Staying here tonight then," said Joe, coming over with an excuse in the form of a tea towel and mug.

 

"Oh Dad, give it a rest."

 

"What?" He was polishing the mug like a bartender in a bad Western.

 

"I've made up the spare bed," said Laura to Leo. "Just go up whenever."

 

He nodded. His lips formed a silent _Thanks_.

 

"Odi told us something," Laura said.

 

"I know," said Leo. "He's got more than Millican's memories."

 

Mattie stared at him. Leo had never said. And she'd never worked it out, which was annoying. "What else?"

 

Mia returned and gave the power cable to Leo in a way that allowed no argument. 

 

"I don't know yet," said Leo. "Let's ... " He glanced out at the floodlit garden. Dirt was piled on the grass.

 

Mattie saw him wobble, but Mia got there first. "Bed," she said. "Charge. Now."

 

"Niska can be tomorrow," said Laura. 

 

Leo looked from one to the other. He caught Mattie eye. _Too many bloody mothers in this house._  


 

Mattie was not about to make one more. "I'll grab Odi's code," she said. "While - " Dammit. _While you rest like a good boy._ Ugh.

 

In the end Leo did go upstairs. There was no subtle way for Mattie to follow him, so she just went, holding the laptop in front of her like a shield, trying to project _Do Not Follow Me_ to the group in the kitchen.

 

She had Odi's code. There was no reason at all for her to sit looking at it in Leo's room, except that she wanted to.

 

"Plug in," she said clearly as she closed the door, to allow the synths' batlike hearing to confirm that she was only checking on his welfare.

 

"I am." He sprawled on the bed with his phone in his hand, his back to the magnolia-painted wall. "Send me that code."

 

"You're meant to be resting. Its late! When all this started we were already in bed - " Fear made her squeak.

 

"I can't sleep," he said. "I don't want to dream."

 

She couldn't blame him for that. Niska lay downstairs on the kitchen table. It was impossible to unsee. "I can send it," she said. "Although it's just as quick to -"

 

She squished up besde him on the single bed, leaning again the wall. Their shoulders touched. She placed the laptop across her right knee and his left.

 

"Huh." He dropped his phone and reached for the keyboard.

 

"Hey," she said. "Two pairs of eyes. It'll be better if we work together."

 

He swivelled his gaze sideways at her. There was a world of exhaustion and grief in his eyes. But he just grimaced, letting her call up the first screens of code, and said, "Yeah."


End file.
